Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Papua New Guinea and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing The Grass Roots to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Ken Boothe. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cabaret Voltaire record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Khruangbin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eyeless In Gaza,
R.M.O.,
Lightning Bolt,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Brass Construction,
Nirvana,
Thompson Twins,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Blossom Toes,
Das Ding,
Junior Murvin,
Bang On A Can,
Tim Buckley,
Intrusion,
Roy Ayers,
Hardrive,
OOIOO,
The Trojans,
Skarface,
Rekid,
Scion,
Urselle,
John Holt,
Joe Smooth,
Kool Moe Dee,
the Association,
The Smoke,
Steve Hackett,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Modern Lovers,
The Saints,
Fela Kuti,
Lyres,
Crime,
Byron Stingily,
Amon Düül II,
Ten City,
Scott Walker,
Gerry Rafferty,
Theoretical Girls,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Thee Headcoats,
Jerry's Kids,
The Mojo Men,
Lucky Dragons,
Grey Daturas,
The Cure,
The Raincoats,
Arab on Radar,
Popol Vuh,
Pet Shop Boys,
Jacob Miller,
Sam Rivers,
Yaz,
The Alarm Clocks,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Last Poets,
Ludus,
The Fire Engines,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Flesh Eaters,
Magazine,
Deepchord,
Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.